Blame
by Audrey Jenkins
Summary: He couldn't do anything else to save him. Jackson Oneshot.


"_Danny, Save him."_

_She was looking up at him from her kneeling position from the forest ground. The twigs and the broken branches were poking at the exposed skin that her skirt could not cover; however she could not feel them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the blood on her hands but she shoved the thought out the way. She knew nothing about first aid and she prayed to God that hopefully her older brother could do something. But when their eyes connected, her hope gave way to despair._

"_Danny, please. Please, you have to do something" she pleaded," Don't let him die." Her voice cracked and tears blurred her eyes, tempting to spill over. When he stayed silent, the tears spilled and with a gentle pit pat they spilled onto the face of their younger brother. "Oh, God." She whispered a prayer. She bent over, covering him with her body._

_And he couldn't do anything. He just stood there feeling oddly disconnected with the scene he was witnessing, almost like an out of body experience. He stood there holding his rifle in one hand and the other hand in his hair holding a chockfull of dirty blonde hair in a fist. They both then realized that James had taken his last breath and just died in his sister's arms. Her cries echoed throughout the forest. _

_After the incident, life went back to its similar routine, but it was far from how it used to be. He did not blame God for his brother's death, only himself and his ignorance._

_Sulfa._

_Sulfa._

_Sulfa._

_He needs more sulfa._

These were the thoughts of Private Daniel Jackson as he impulsively poured countless of sulfa packets over Wade's wounds. It was the only thing he learned what to do. He would curse himself in the future for not paying better attention when Wade treated the wounded, but right now he was only focused on the sulfa.

"P-put my legs up. Put my legs up" Wade said.

"You're going to be okay, you're going to a hospital." Mellish said, trying to comfort the medic.

Wade ignored all of this and continued to urge someone to put his legs up to treat the shock. Horvath finally complied with a quick "I got them, I got them." And throughout all of this, Jackson just administered sulfa to the wounds.

His teeth grinded together in frustration, anger, despair, and panic as he continued to apply sulfa. He tried to block out the others and to concentrate on doing his job.

"Upham! Quick! Give me your canteen!" Mellish called out and was immediately handed a canteen.

Jackson paused just for a moment to give Mellish a chance to pour water on Wade's chest to clear off the blood, giving him a chance to place a firm hand on Wade's cheek. It was his own way of comforting him.

"Am I shot in the spine?" Wade asked trying to speak coherently put he could not hide the pain in his voice.

Jackson tried to ignore Wade's shaking hands (despite the shot of morphine that he was just given). He tried to ignore the fact that Upham was just standing there and Reiben was nowhere to be seen. But his eyes and ears that were trained to see and hear everything would not let him.

They turned him over and Miller quickly described the wound and just as fast they set him back down. Jackson grabbed the sulfa and dumped the rest on the first wound he saw. God, wasn't there anything else he could do? Was killing the only thing he was good at?

"Pressurize. Put pressure on it."

He dumped the useless packet and spread his hand across Wade's chest and put as much pressure as his arm strength could allow. His other hand still held the side of Wade's head. Was it a way to comfort him? Was it to give his head some support? Was it both? He felt various hands on top of his, adding pressure to the wounds. He could also feel the blood seeping through his fingers, proving their attempts to stop the bleeding were unsuccessful.

"Is there anything else bleeding worse than the others?" Wade managed to choke out.

Mellish directed Wade's hand to one of the other wounds and placed his hand on it.

"Oh my God! My liver!"

A shiver shook Jackson as the words were spoken by the medic. The tone of the two phrases meant that Wade knew. He refused to believe that he was going to die. Complete bullshit, medics don't die.

"Tell us what to do. Tell us how to fix you." He heard Upham say.

"Tell us what to do." Miller said softly.

It was quiet for a moment until Jackson heard Wade say even softer, "I could use a little morphine."

They had already given him a shot of morphine. What if they need it? What if somebody else needs it? What if Wade doesn't need it? He could pull through. Couldn't he? The look on Wade's and Miller's said otherwise but he still felt compelled to turn to Miller and ask "More morphine, sir?" just as softly as them.

Miller understood Wade's desire for more morphine and despite the squads questioning looks he urged Horvath to give him the morphine. When Horvath didn't comply, Miller said sharply "Give it to him." It was an order. The Rangers just looked as Horvath gave Wade the shot of morphine.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die." Wade whimpered as he held on to a hand. The men quickly forgot their complaints. They weren't the ones dying.

Jackson tried to rub off the blood that Wade had coughed up, it didn't work. He just smeared it all over the place. He decided to just go back to comforting him by holding his cheek. He noticed that every one of his comrades was holding a piece of Wade as if holding him tightly would keep his spirit inside. It was another useless attempt.

He was temporarily distracted when he saw Sergeant Horvath give Wade another shot of morphine. "Another one?" he asked not anyone In particular. The overdose of morphine was going to kill him, not the loss of blood.

"Mama?"

Jackson looked down to see Wade's eyes looking up at him, the look of death clear in his eyes. Like his brother's. Like his sister's. He froze. Time froze.

_"Danny, save him." _

_ "Danny, please. Please you have to do something."_

_ "Don't let him die."_

He gripped Wade's head tighter. Had he forgotten how to breathe? He tried to shove the violent flashback out of sight and out of his memory, but he couldn't deny it. He was living the same thing twice. Feelings of guilt, iniquity, and uselessness flooded him. If he ever made it back home, he was gonna be a damn doctor.

"Mama?"

He was no longer holding Wade's cheek; he had him in a head lock. He was torn between the flashback and the dying friend beneath his bloodied hands. Jackson was ironically in the same exact situation as his sister had been. His thoughts returned to his dying friend and felt him fading away. He tilted his head to the ground, and prayed.

'Mama' was Wade's last word. And long after Wade took his last breath, nobody dared to move. No one moved an inch; they all just stared at the lifeless body beneath their hands, too surprised that their comrade was really dead.

And just like that, the silence was broken. The moment was lost. Miller pulled Caparzo's letter from Wade's front pocket, pushed himself from the ground, and walked away. Nothing said.

Grunts were heard from further up the hill and everyone turned to see Reiben beating a surviving German. Immediately, Jackson stood up and ran up the hill, his fingers itching to cause pain.

He needed someone to blame. This time though, it wasn't going to be him.

**A/N: I sure love Jackson. I enjoyed writing this, but worried about the quality of said writing. I don't know if I captured Jackson correctly. D: **

** R&R? Thanks a bunch. **


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